


Cruel Cycles

by populardarling



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:11:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/populardarling/pseuds/populardarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abuse is a cruel cycle</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruel Cycles

“Francine, where did you get that bruise?” Bara Mellark asks me at lunch. I fiddle around with my meager meal, afraid if I tell too much my mother will get mad at me again for airing out our family business. 

“Nothing,” I lie. “It’s nothing. Really. I just fell out of a tree.” I take a big bite out of my apple to show him I am perfectly fine, but he doesn’t seem to believe me.   
Bara Mellark, the boy I’ve had a crush on for the longest time, lightly touches my face with his big, gentle hands, and I close my eyes at the touch, never used to being touched with such care before I met him. The smell of cinnamon and sugar flood my senses as I feel his hand tracing the edge of my bruise. He’s the only person who ever questions my injuries and I am so thankful that at least someone notices me. 

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” he mutters, all full of concern that only a boy from the Mellark household can possess. I want to tell him so badly. I want to tell him that my father is a drunk who likes to tuck my sister in late at night, her soft whines of him touching her waking me from my slumber every now and then; that my mother controls the house with an iron fist; and that my poor older sister, sweet and naive Nessie, is becoming unbearable to live with now that her episodes are getting worse. I want to tell him how much his big, goofy smile truly means to me on rough mornings when Mama hits me with the broom for not finishing my morning chores in a timely fashion, or how embarrassing it is having to see my eighteen year old sister wet herself in the morning and not even be phased by sitting in her own filth.

It’s all on the tip of my tongue, ready to be told. 

I want to tell this boy all my secrets that I have had hidden away for years, but I can’t, because Mama and Mrs. Mellark are close friends. Word would get around and then what? I would be forced to continue living with them, but it would be ten times worse than it is now. It would be another flaw my mother would see in me, and what if she took it out on sweet Bara? I couldn’t bear seeing him hurt over my own faults. 

No, this will always be my burden to bear. 

I bite my tongue and rest my small, scarred hand on top of his, opening my eyes and looking into those big blue eyes. Bara Mellark means the world to me because he’s the only thing able to make me smile after a hard day of abuse. He doesn’t even have to try. He just has to be himself and I would feel at peace for all eternity. 

“Bara,” I murmur against his hand, basking in the heat of it. “Bara, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for years now.” 

He smiles that big, gentle smile of his and I forget there is a big nasty bruise on my face, and that my skin is all scarred up from my arms to my mid thighs from when Nessie set our kitchen on fire when I was a little girl. He makes me feel like I’m the only one that matters in this world. 

I enjoy feeling that attention.

“Yes, Francine?” 

I open my mouth to tell him how happy he makes me, how no one else in this world makes me as happy as Bara Mellark does, but someone interrupts us. Someone who I have hated since the moment I first laid eyes on her.

“Hey guys!”

Cary Vincent is strolling toward us with her long pretty blonde hair braided into some fancy braid blowing in the wind, waving in our direction. and Bara’s hand and attention leave me. I gnash my teeth together in agitation. Of course perfect and wonderful Cary Vincent would show up right when I was about to tell one of my closest friends I liked him. Of course. 

Away goes the hand as she stands next to our table. Away goes the warm sensation I was feeling moments ago when Bara was looking at me with those pretty blue eyes, and away goes his attention from me because as soon as she sits down, our conversation drops like a hat to the subject of the troublesome Everdeen boy who is always getting thrown out of class for flinging pencils at the ceiling and teachers.

I take another bite out of my apple, wincing at the sting in my eye, and hope tonight will be better than this morning. I try to please her as much as I can, but I’m not perfect. Mama is so concerned that the reason my sister is the way she is is because she was too soft on Nessie, but I’m not going to get sick like Nessie. I want to shout this to my mother, to have her realize I am my own person, but any argument will result in burns and beatings. 

I can’t chance another argument with Mama for at least another week. 

I watch Bara watch Cary with admiration and decide to just imagine our life together, as a married couple. Bara would be a good, supporting husband. I know this because all the Mellark men are. He would make an amazing dad to our children, too. I smile at the image of two children, a little blonde girl and a little blond boy, smiling and running around the bakery we would all run as a family. He would be loving and caring, and I would never lay a finger on my children for trying to be themselves. I would let them choose their lives and never be afraid of angering their parents, or knowing the fear of expectations hanging over their heads. My children will grow up differently than I did. They’ll know what love is.   
I shyly smile at the thought, feeling my cheeks heat up as they redden. It’s a nice thought, but the way he’s looking at Cary makes me feel like I’m the worthless girl my mother always claims I am. 

Why does Cary Vincent get everything imaginable, I wonder bitterly. Isn’t it bad enough all the Merchant boys fall for her. Why Bara, too? Can’t I at least have one thing that is my own? 

“Are you coming over, Francine?” Cary asks, oblivious to my great dislike for her. 

For once I’m glad I am forbidden from going anywhere after school. I have to help take care of Nessie while my parents manage the shop. “I can’t,” I sigh. “I have...plans.”

“What a shame,” Cary comments, opening her lunch pail up. “We were going to try and sneak into the woods with Sage.”

“Yes,” I sigh, knowing full well how my mother would react to news of me roaming in the forbidden woods. “What a shame.”

~~~~

“You worthless girl!” Mama yells, pulling me up by my hair. “I tell you to do one thing and one thing only!” 

I am crying, protecting my face from the hard blows she is inflicting. I beg her to stop. I didn’t mean for Nessie to run out like she did. I didn’t mean it, didn’t she understand? 

“I’m sorry, Mama!” I scream, choking on my own tears. I duck my head to avoid another blow and stumble back to the ground as her pan hits the back of my head. My vision blurs for a minute before I am able to see her square red face glaring at me. 

“You will never amount to anything if you do not listen, Francine,” Mama lectures. I try to nod, but my neck hurts from the recent blow and I continue to cry, hugging my knees as close as I can to protect myself. She must get tired of my pathetic sight and storms off to help Father with the sales up front. 

When the door slams shut, I touch the back of my head for inspection and my hand pulls away with blood painting it.

I hate her.

I hate how she does this to me.

I vow to never hit any of my children.

They will never know the feel of a broom hitting you, or a frying pan being bashed against your neck.

I won’t allow it.

~~~~  
“You stupid boy!” I shout, taking my rolling pin I had been using to roll out the dough for rye bread. “How have I raised such an insolent child?” 

“She was starving, Mama,” Peeta argues, tugging on the apron that I fear will never fit him. His brothers were a lot bigger than him at this age. The sensitive runt of the family, I sneer. 

“I told you to leave her alone, and what do you do?” I scream. “You purposely burn bread!” I pull him by the collar of his shirt toward me. He struggles against my grip, but I hit in on top of the head with my rolling pin, causing my son to collapse onto the ground. “You leave that damn girl alone. Her whole lot is nothing but trouble.” 

“She needs our help!” Peeta cries on the floor. 

I hit him again with the rolling pin. 

“You leave her alone, or so help me, Peeta Mellark, you’ll wish you’d never been born!” I give him one final hit before telling him to go clean up before he got blood on my clean wooden floors. 

“Katniss needed my help, Mama,” Peeta mutters as best as he can with his swollen jaw, and I scream for him to leave my sight, my hands shaking in anger.   
That damn Everdeen girl. Even now Cary Vincent haunts my reality. 

Bara cautiously pops his head into the kitchen, asking if everything is alright back here. I smile tightly and tell him of course. Peeta was being a insolent child again and burned good bread. 

He notices the blood on the floor but doesn’t say a thing, instead choosing to ignore the incident altogether. My husband leaves me to my thoughts, and I turn back to the window. I’m positive I’ll see the little urchin staring straight at me with those haunting eyes, and I start to cry.

I cry for all the pain I have suffered over the decades, and I cry for all the things my life has never had and will never have. I cry until I feel a tiny hand lightly tugging at my pant leg. My little Peeta is staring straight at me, his face swollen from my beating, and I start to cry even harder.

All my life I had vowed never to hurt my children, and look what I had done to my innocent son. 

I was just like her.


End file.
